We Interrupt This Mets Game
by Madwoman in the TARDIS
Summary: After the shooting, Josh and Donna made a promise to each other. Josh never thought he'd have to keep it. A worstcase scenario NSF Thurmont AU.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes**

Spoilers for "NSF Thurmont." Ignore everything that happens in the 6th and 7th seasons. Leo does not have a heart attack, CJ is still Press Secretary.

Partly inspired by the _ER _episode "Body and Soul" (aired 2/2/06). James Woods plays a professor with ALS. I'm not saying you have to watch that episode to understand my story, but if you have, you'll have an idea where I'm trying to take this.

Kudos to my betas, Pat and Louisa. Many thanks for all your help.

_The West Wing _is owned by Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, etc. Not me.

_Colonel Leahy: … We'll send her up for an MRI. … With the anemia and low blood pressure, Ms. Moss may have suffered what's called a hypoxic brain injury. Decreased oxygen to the brain can cause brain damage._ paraphrased from NSF Thurmont

**We Interrupt This Mets Game Prologue**

Apartment of White House Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman

September 2000

9:30 pm

Donnatella Moss handed her boss a beer and placed the envelope she'd been instructed to retrieve on the coffee table. "Wow, the Mets are really getting creamed," she informed him.

Josh glared at her. "I'm already depressed. You don't have to rub it in."

She took a seat next to him on the couch. "Did you do your exercises?"

"Yes, Mom," he replied.

"You need to do the exercises three times a day," Donna reminded her boss.

He rolled his eyes. "I know, dear," he said through gritted teeth. "Is Keaton still lobbying for that bill?" he suddenly asked.

Donna swatted his arm. "I explicitly told you _no work_!" She leaned back into the sofa cushions.

"Hey, I read the papers."

"You shouldn't be doing that. The rules ---"

"Yeah, the rules."

"If you insist on reading the newspaper, you're limited to sports and comics."

"Whoever invented these stupid rules needs to get their head examined," he muttered.

Donna pretended to look insulted. "You want to get better, don't you, Joshua."

She could see the envelope out of the corner of her eye; to prevent her attention from wandering where it shouldn't, she stared at the television.

"Keep taking away all my fun and I won't, Donnatella."

"You call that fun? It's called 'work,' Josh."

"What can I say? It's my life."

"No wonder you never get laid. Your priorities are totally screwed."

"I happen to be in high demand with the ladies." If he was 100, Donna was almost positive the man would be up and swaggering. "I'll have you know, I've got fans."

"And I've got swampland in Jersey I'll sell you." She looked over to the mysterious envelope once more. "They really do have swampland there. Cranberry bogs."

"Believe it or not, Donna, but I actually already knew that."

"What's in the envelope?" she suddenly asked. When he looked nervous, she quickly added: "Never mind, it's personal."

He gestured toward the item in question. "Open it."

Donna carefully tore open the envelope and lifted out the papers inside. As she unfolded forms marked "Medical Power of Attorney" and "Living Will," her mouth dropped open.

Josh muted the Mets game; that was the moment Donna realized how serious this conversation would be. "If something happens to me, I want you to be in charge," he said into the shocked silence.

"If something happens? Getting shot in the chest doesn't count?" she asked faintly.

"What if the bullet didn't hit my chest? What if I was shot in the head?" He paused a moment, letting that very real possibility sink in for both of them. "I don't want to be kept alive artificially if there's no brain function or I'm in pain from an end-stage terminal illness. I trust you, Donna. I know you'll do what you think best for me."

Donna looked at him curiously. "What about your mom?"

"My mom's well in her seventies," he pointed out. "I don't want to burden her with this."

Donna wondered for the umpteenth time if other assistants had "take care of your boss" as part of their job descriptions. However much that frustrated her at times, she knew that if their roles were reversed he would not leave her side. And she was incredibly honored to be asked.

"I'll do it," she said finally. "But on one condition --- "

"Just one?" he asked, grinning.

" --- That you'll do the same for me. If there's no brain function and no chance of recovery, don't keep me hooked to machines."

_What if something happens to me, and, god forbid, I suffer brain damage? _Donna wondered then. _Not as severe as permanent vegetative state or brain death, but enough that I can't function the same? My father's health hasn't been great since his heart attack. And forget my mom, she's still in denial about Brian and me. She could never handle something that serious. _

Donna examined the top of her beer bottle as she twirled it in circles in her hands, unnecessary worries flooding her mind. _Oh god! Am I going to end up in some nursing home? What if I can't work anymore? Josh won't have any use for me and I ---_

Josh's voice broke through her frazzled thoughts. "What is it?"

Donna chose her next words carefully. "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you lost your ability to function as … as Joshua Lyman?"

Josh leaned towards her. "The egotistical jackass everyone knows and loves?" The dimples made a quick appearance, and then he grew serious again. "I trust that my agent – that's you if you accept – would make the right decisions. If I can recover, that's one thing. But if I can't, find a good place for me and go on with your life. You already took care of me this summer, you shouldn't have to do it again. I'd love for you to visit me, if that's not too much to ask. But I want you to have a life that doesn't revolve around me.

"All I ask is one thing." He smiled. "Even if I don't completely understand my surroundings, don't let me miss a Mets game. Think you could handle that?"

She nodded. _I would do whatever it takes, Josh. You know that. _

"How about you?" he asked. "What's your worst-case scenario?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "My parents are useless when it comes to those situations. And I don't even want to think about you terrorizing any new assistant." She stared at the television. _Mets score. Wow. _"What if I can't work anymore? I'd probably end up in some nursing home in Madison, just a blip on your --- "

"No, you wouldn't!" her boss blurted out. "You'll come home with me."

She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'd take care of you," he promised. "I'd quit my job if I had to."

_He's not serious, is he? I'm just an assistant. He's Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States. Someone that high up in the government can't just throw everything away like that. _

"You can't do it, Josh. Do you have any idea what it would look like if you quit your job for some secretary?" Donna held up a hand to stifle his protests. "Politics is your life. You've worked so hard to get where you are. I don't want you giving that up just for me."

"You're more important than politics," Josh said quietly. "If anything happened to you --- "

"All I want to know is that I'm not alone. That someone's looking out for me."

"You won't be alone," Josh promised, and raised his beer bottle. "Here's to hoping this conversation never comes true," he said.

Donna raised her own bottle and clinked it against his. "Amen!"


	2. Chapter 1

We Interrupt This Mets Game Chapter I 

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center

ICU

Landstuhl, Germany

Friday, June 4, 2004

4:17 pm

Four Years Later

Josh stared at the doctor sitting across from him and Mrs. Moss, waiting for his alarm clock to wake him from this nightmare.

"… rehabilitation centers located in Washington," Col. Leahy was saying. "She'll need intense therapy, maybe even months or years after leaving the rehab facility."

Josh struggled to focus on the doctor's words, the image of his assistant waking up in the room across the hall still stuck in his mind. Her lax jaw, the unintelligible sounds, and the blank expression in her blue eyes were immediate proof that something was terribly wrong. The mostly one-sided conversation he, the colonel, and Donna's mother were having only served to confirm everyone's fears: due to anemia and low blood pressure, Donna had suffered severe neurological impairment.

"Will she improve with the therapy?" Mrs. Moss was asking. Josh couldn't help noticing the way she twisted her fingers – _just like Donna when she's nervous._

"She may be able to regain some basic skills," the doctor said cautiously. "How much and how quickly remains to be seen. But the fact that she responds to outside stimuli is a good sign."

Whenever she saw Josh, her nonsensical babbling grew louder and she waved her hands at him; as soon as he stepped out of her line of sight, she'd start to cry.

"… have to consider the option of twenty-four hour care in a nursing home …"

Flashback

Office of the White House Deputy Chief of Staff of Strategic Planning

"Did you know there was no World Series in 1904?"

Josh glanced up from the deficit report he was struggling to decipher. "What?"

"There was no World Series in 1904," his assistant repeated. John McGraw was the manager of the New York Giants. He hated the American League president Ban Johnson and refused to play against the Boston Red Sox. So there was no World Series that year."

"And this concerns me how?"

"I'm just saying." She grabbed a fry off a Styrofoam box on his desk.

"Why don't you order your own fries?" he grumbled.

She smirked at him. "Why spend the money when yours taste so good?" Josh watched as his dill pickle and another fry disappeared from his lunch. "And besides, it annoys the hell out of you."

"No shit."

"Did you know that the World Series used to have nine games? They had seven games for awhile, but after World War I they went back to nine games to boost attendance."

Josh turned the report upside down, just in case it would help him make some sense out of the thing.

"Why the sudden interest in baseball trivia?"

"My blind date last night was a baseball fanatic," Donna confessed. "I spent the whole night listening to him."

He carefully schooled his features and forced himself not to say anything that would be mistaken as jealousy.

"If you have to suffer, I have to suffer?"

"Hey, some of it was interesting. I'm not seeing him again," she quickly added. "He's not the worst date, but he's not the best either."

"Do I look like I care?" Josh snapped. _So much for keeping in control._

"Toby wants to see you."

Josh sighed. "When were you going to tell me this?"

"Just now."

He pushed the rest of his lunch toward his assistant, placed the deficit report under his arm, and headed toward the Communications Bullpen.

End flashback

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center

ICU

Landstuhl, Germany

Friday, June 4, 2004

4:17 pm

_This is a bad dream_, Josh kept telling himself. _This is a bad dream. Donna can't have brain damage. _He tried to shake the ringing from inside his head while Colonel Leahy droned on about short-term memory impairment, motor skill impairment, loss of coordination, communication impairment, and loss of cognitive functioning.

In other words, she might need constant care for the rest of her life.

Josh tried telling himself Donna simply needed to rest and let the anesthesia wear off; she'd be better tomorrow. But he couldn't even convince himself.

_It's been two days_, he thought, running a hand down his face._ Get real, Lyman._


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes**

Here is the next chapter. Thank you, Pat, for your help beta'ing. I appreciate it.

_The West Wing _is owned by Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, etc. Not me.

**We Interrupt This Mets Game Chapter II**

Donna watched the people standing around her bed. They were really noisy. Someone was talking to her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"D-D," she began. She grunted in frustration.

"Do you know where you are?"

She stared at the woman. _I want to go home_, she wanted to say. Instead, she continued grunting and making sounds.

"Raise your right hand." … "Follow my finger." … "Grab my pen."

She banged a clenched hand on her bed. She was being a bad girl. The woman was sad 'cause she can't do what she said.

Donna didn't like this place. All this noise was making her head feel funny. And her leg felt ouchy. She was sleepy and the people kept talking and talking.

"I'm going to lay out some cards on the tray. Just point to the one that comes first."

She looked at the cards. They had pictures on them. One had a picture of yummy food you eat on birthdays. Another card had a picture of the thing you're not supposed to touch because it's hot. The last card had a bowl.

"Which one comes first?"

_I don't know!_

She shook her head and moaned. The lady took away the cards and placed new ones on the tray. One had a big tweet-tweet animal (what's it called?) feeding a worm to little tweet-tweet animals in that place tweet-tweet animals live. Another had the tweet-tweet animal with a stick in its mouth. The last card had a thing with eggs.

Donna screamed. She swiped the tray with her arm and watched the mean cards with the tweet-tweets and yummy birthday food fly away.

A man with the curly hair grabbed hold of one of her hands and squeezed it. "Look at me, Donna," he said.

She stared at him. He had a nice smile.

"You're doing okay," he said.

"That's enough for today," the woman told her.

Donna wanted to turn over, but her leg was in the air. The nice man rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center

ICU Room 214B – Donnatella Moss

Landstuhl, Germany

Friday, June 4, 2004

5:00 pm

Josh stroked his assistant's hand. "Hey, Donnatella," he whispered.

"Donna always hated when people called her by her full name," Sabrina Moss told him from her spot near the window. "Didn't mind when you said it."

He grinned. "Just part of my charm."

"She talks – talked about you all the time. Every Friday night, around nine our time, she'd call us, let us know what was going on in Washington."

"What did she say about me?"

"That you were a pompous ass, with an ego bigger than the size of Texas," the woman told him. "But she thought the world of you. You meant … you meant so much to her."

Josh glanced at Donna and half-prayed for her to start snarking him. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"I kept telling her to come visit once in awhile."

Josh hung his head, fully aware where this conversation was headed. "Work gets a little crazy sometimes. Running the country and all."

"You couldn't spare my daughter for a day or two?" Mrs. Moss shook her head. "Oh right, I forgot – you couldn't function without her. You could have come, too, you know."

"To Madison?" Josh was incredulous. _If I took a vacation with Donna, I'd have to deal with the wrath of CJ and Leo._

Suddenly, she whirled around, walked to the middle of the room, then back to the window. "I can't do this!" she blurted out.

Josh lifted his head. "Do what?"

Mrs. Moss waved her arm over the room and attempted to blink back the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Can't bear to see my girl like this."

"Colonel Leahy says there's a chance she might make some improvements," he reminded her. _Damn, Donna, you were right. Your mother really can't handle something like this. Oh, like you can? _His conscience shot back.

"Who in the hell are you trying to kid?" she snorted. "You really think she knows what's going on?"

"If you'd stop staring at the wall and look directly at her, you'd realize she's following you with her eyes." He paused to prevent himself from screaming at her. "She seems to be aware of her surroundings. That's a good start, right?"

"What if this is all there is?" Donna's mother wondered. "What if ---"

Josh interrupted the what-ifs before Mrs. Moss ventured into territory he didn't want to wander into. "They're starting her on some initial therapy tomorrow morning."

"I can't have a darn vegetable as a daughter!" she yelled.

"She's _Donna_," Josh argued. "Don't call her that."

Mrs. Moss sank into the nearest chair. "I just want my girl back."

Oval Office

Friday, June 4, 2004

12:30 pm

"I just got off the phone with Josh," Leo McGarry informed the President.

Jed Bartlet glanced up from the NSA file he was reading to get a glimpse of his oldest friend's ashen complexion. "What did he say?" He stood up and motioned for Leo to join him on the sofa.

"You remember how they were afraid there might be neurological damage?" Bartlet nodded. "Well, the doctors just confirmed it."

He shuddered. "Ah, geez. How … how bad?"

"They're still running tests. She's responsive to outside stimuli, and she can move her hands, so they at least ruled out PVS."

"But?"

"She can't talk, can't focus, can't use her hands to grasp objects, concentration and memory levels are next to nil. No bladder control, either. She's prone to seizures now, too. Doctors are gonna start her on therapy tomorrow morning."

"Occupational?" the President asked.

"Occupational, speech, physical. They have to exercise her leg, but they're not going to see if she'll be able to walk until the leg starts to heal."

If _is the main operative here_, the President thought grimly. _I send good, dedicated American citizens to a potential war zone on a "fact finding mission" and look where it got them – two Congressmen dead, Fitz dead, and that poor girl – what the hell did I do to Donna? _

"She was proud to serve you, Sir," Leo said, almost reading his best friend's mind. "Don't beat yourself up – they would have gone wherever you sent them."

"Let me guess – you already had to deal with Josh Lyman?"

The Chief of Staff nodded. "Still am. I tell him repeatedly to stop blaming himself, just concentrate on helping Donna get better. And if she doesn't, well, he's just gonna have to accept it. Sometimes you get dealt a lousy card."

"Her mother at Landstuhl?"

"Yes, sir," Leo responded. "Josh isn't sure how much longer she'll be there. She's on edge. This is very difficult for her."

"As my wife would say, we need to take one day at a time. Recovery will be slow – sometimes excruciatingly so." There were instances; rumors the staff thought Leo and their Commander-in-Chief had no knowledge of. But both men had eyes and ears that wandered the hallowed halls of the West Wing. If Donna's mother couldn't handle the challenge, Josh would step up to the plate without an ounce of hesitation. "Is Josh coming back for the peace summit?"

"We need him there. If there was any way to let him stay with Donna, I would have worked something out."


	4. Chapter 3

**We Interrupt This Mets Game Chapter III**

NSF Thurmont (Camp David)

Monday, June 7, 2004

10:14 am

Josh absent-mindedly tapped his pen against the table and pretended to listen to Chairman Farad's meaningless attempts at condolences. _Too little, too late_, he thought bitterly. _Your damn apology's not gonna bring Donna back to the way she was before._

He was getting frequent updates from Mrs. Moss and Colonel Leahy, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be there with her. He wanted to see for himself. As Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States, Joshua Lyman forced himself to pay attention to the peace talks. _Why are we wasting our time? _He wanted to ask. _Let's just bomb the hell out of them and be done with it. _His better judgment told him to keep that idea to himself.

Josh listened and allowed the other occupants of the West Wing to guide the talks. When they finally broke for lunch, he walked into the woods to make a long-distance phone call. He saw Toby standing outside the cabin.

"Hey, Toby," he acknowledged the Communications Director.

Toby Ziegler nodded a curt greeting and walked the other way.

He dialed the number and asked to be connected to the ICU. Finally, he was patched through to Sabrina Moss.

"How is she?" he asked Donna's mother.

"She had some juice earlier," Mrs. Moss said. "And she knocked over a cup of pears."

"Yeah, Donna hates pears." _She's off the intravenous feeding. Good. _"Did the doctors say anything new?"

"We're flying her home on Sunday," she told him. "Dr. Leahy says I should put her in a rehab center."

"In Wisconsin?"

"I'm looking for one in Washington. Don't be so shocked," she added, after hearing Josh's sharp intake of breath. "She has – had – her life there. The doctors say the less change the better. I know I'm overstepping my bounds here, but – could you help me find a decent place near you?"

"Sure," Josh said. "Are you going to stay in D.C.?" Sabrina Moss's silence gave him all the answer he needed. "I have to go," he said hurriedly. "The president needs to see me." _It's a lie, but it works as well as any._

After hanging up with Donna's mother, he walked to the cafeteria and grabbed a seat next to CJ and across from Will, Toby, and Kate.

"They're not going to agree," Will was saying. "There are too many years of animosity."

"If the peace plan works ---" Kate started.

Josh mixed up the mashed potatoes on his plate. "It's not going to," he grumbled. "Let them just kill each other, for all I care."

"Joshua," CJ warned. Her voice was full of the no-nonsense Press Secretary. Her eyes, however, were filled with pity. Josh Lyman did not want anybody's pity.

"How's Donna?" Will asked.

"Have you heard anything new?" CJ inquired.

"She and her mom are flying back to Washington on Sunday," Josh told them. "She doesn't need a feeding tube," he added.

"She can swallow on her own." Kate stated the obvious.

Josh nodded and concentrated on getting through the meal. He wasn't sure he could handle talking about Donna at the moment without breaking down. Thankfully, CJ started sharing hilarious anecdotes from the pressroom.

"Welcome home, Josh."

He realized who had addressed him and immediately stood up, as protocol dictated.

President Bartlet motioned everyone to have a seat. Josh happily obliged.

"Take a walk with me," President Bartlet ordered his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"I understand you would rather be with Donna right now," the president said once the two men were alone. "But we couldn't have the peace talks without you."

"Yes, sir," Josh responded.

"If there's anything you need, you let me know," President Bartlet assured him. "I've said the same to Donna's parents."

"Thank you, sir."

He returned to the table in the midst of conversations about the (in his mind non-existent) peace plans and Kate Harper's bad date the week before. As Josh forced himself to swallow a piece of apple pie, he was mentally alerted to the fact that since he approached the table, Toby Ziegler had not said one word to him.

* * *

Donna squinted at the flashcard the nice man with the curly hair held in front of her. "M'ow?" she guessed.

"No, Donna, not what sound it makes. Tell me its **name**."

"Ja."

The nice man with the curly hair smirked. "No, that's **my** name. _Cat_. Can you say _cat_, Donna?"

"Kuh." She didn't want to say what Josh said. The bird outside the window was much cooler. The man in the white coat made her look at pictures, too. She stared at it until someone turned her chair around; then she shrieked.

Josh was looking right in her eyes. "C – ah – t." She laughed; he looked so funny.

"Kuh."

Her friend pointed to the picture. "Ca-ah-t," he repeated.

"K't."

"That's good. Wanna try again?"

"K't."

He placed the card on the table and picked up another one. "What's this?" he asked.

She remembered riding one when she was a kid. Could picture her favorite one, even. The name of the animal was there, but she couldn't reach for it. "A neh."

"Horse. Say horse."

"Neh!" She yelled. She didn't want to play this game anymore. Why was the nice man with curly hair making her play this game? He was not being a very nice man right now.

* * *

Tristen Baldridge Rehabilitation Center

Room 683 – Donnatella Moss

Monday, July 19, 2004

4:51 pm

Josh snapped his cell phone shut and walked through the courtyard behind the Tristen Baldridge Rehabilitation Center. Every day for the past month-and-a-half, the hours of 4 to 6 pm were blocked out on his schedule. Instead of wrestling with wayward members of Congress and pulling votes out of thin air, he was supporting Sabrina Moss as they learned how to feed, dress, bathe, and change the diapers of a thirty-year-old woman. His visits only served to maximize the Joshua Lyman guilt complex. He had sent his assistant to a war zone to shut her up, and it had worked - the woman who'd been his lifeline for the past six years now had the mental functioning of a three-year-old child. The person in room 683 was Donna at first glance. She had Donna's long blond hair, alabaster skin, beautiful smile, and the ability to wrap the cocky DCOS around her finger. But that's where the similarities ended.

Mrs. Moss was in Wisconsin, so today, CJ had accompanied him. She was keeping Donna company while he tracked down a wishy-washy senator. He hated leaving Donna – whenever he left the room, she became hysterical. They said she had no concept of time, couldn't keep track of something as important as a schedule. But she knew Josh always visited her after she saw the speech therapist. On the one afternoon he found himself stuck in a meeting, he later learned she had acted very ornery until he showed up. Unfortunately, Senator Davis was going on a two-week vacation; the White House needed her vote, and they couldn't wait for her to return to Washington.

He heard her voice before he even entered the hallway. Donna was sitting in her wheelchair, arms gesticulating wildly. "Onju!" She screamed. "Onju!"

"Donna, I don't know what 'onju' is," CJ said.

"Ahwan onju!"

Josh rested against the threshold of the doorway for a minute before making his presence known. "She wants orange juice," he explained to the White House Press Secretary. "'Onju' is Donna-speak for orange juice."

"You want orange juice?" CJ asked the other woman. She smacked the side of her head. "So that's what you want?"

Donna didn't respond. By now, her focus was on the man who had just entered the room. "Ja!" she squealed. "Ja!"

Josh brushed her hair off her face and kissed her on the forehead. "Were you good for CJ?" She shrugged, the impish Donna-grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. He turned to his other friend. "Was she ok?"

"We practiced our colors and I fed her some applesauce," CJ informed him. "She's been carrying on about 'onju' for the past ten minutes. Were you able to reach Davis?"

"Said she'll 'think about it,'" he replied over guttural sounds coming from his assistant. "I offered her the President's support on a grazing tax."

"And she still didn't accept?"

"I'm not gonna grovel. She wants us to grovel – Lymans do not grovel to anyone." The noises had stopped. He turned towards Donna and noticed her eyes were rolled toward the back of her head, which was lolled to one side. He grabbed a towel and wiped drool off her chin. "Go get a nurse!"

"What's happening?" She inquired.

"She's gonna have a seizure."

CJ did as Josh instructed and grabbed a nurse from the hall. Sure enough, Donna was having convulsions. As soon as the nurse injected something into her arm, the convulsions stopped. Josh ran his fingers through her hair and whispered soothing words of comfort.

"She'll be unconscious for awhile," the nurse explained.

"How often does that happen?" CJ asked.

Josh pulled a blanket from the bed and covered the sleeping woman in the wheelchair. "Without the medication? Could have twenty in one day. Now, it's maybe nine. Six or seven if we're lucky."

CJ shook her head in half-amazement, half-horror. "I don't know how you do it," she whispered, obviously thinking of her inability to take care of her Alzheimer's-inflicted father.

Josh sighed and attempted a smile. "I guess that makes two of us then."


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes**

Been busy with work and school, plus had some writer's block in regards to this story. Here's a chapter while I think what to do next.

_The West Wing _is owned by Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, etc. Not me.

**We Interrupt This Mets Game**

**Chapter IV **

Donna opened her eyes and cried out in pain. Her arms and legs were curled into a tight ball, and it really hurt.

"It's okay, Donna," a nurse said, rubbing the twisty arms and legs.

"S'kay, Donna," she parroted.

Her arms and legs always got tight and curly when she slept. A nurse would stretch her body when she woked up. They said it helps her, but Donna thought it was just ouchy.

The nurse pulled her arm, making her cry.

"Hurt!" she wailed. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-NO!"

She tried to push away from the meanie, but she got Donna's arms and legs to not be twisty.

"Why light blink?" Donna said as the nurse changed her diaper and helped her dress.

The nurse looked to where her charge was pointing. "The light needs to be changed. It's flickering."

"Flick'rin'."

"You want some breakfast?" the nurse asked.

Donna nodded. "Bekfest."

The nurse carried her to her wheelchair and pushed it up to the table. There was a plate with eggs, tatoes, and toast. And a cup of orange juice. Donna placed her fist around the fork and dropped it a lot before it didn't slip out of her hand. The eggs didn't want to stay on the fork, and the juice kept dribbling down her chin.

"Messy!" she complained. _Not messy before I got hurted. _

The nurse handed her a towel and held a mirror in front of her so she could clean herself up.

"Wan see Bibber," Donna said when she finally finished and the nurse took the towel and mirror away. She couldn't remember what grown-up shows she used to watch. Someone told her, but she kept forgetting. There was lots of talking and kissing. And when Josh visited, the people on the TV yelled or threw balls and ran around. It was too hard for her.

So the woman who once followed _The Young and the Restless _raptly watched _Sesame Street._

* * *

West Wing

Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

7:01 am

"Don – Tracy!" Joshua Lyman bellowed.

"Yes, Mr. Lyman?" his new assistant asked, poking her head in the doorway to his office.

"Where's that background on the Hefner bill?"

Tracey Grissom stepped out for a second and returned with a manila envelope, which she promptly dropped on his desk. She was all right, as far as assistants went. Nothing spectacular- overly cautious and a bit frumpy with no sense of humor, but she managed to get the job done. Not half as efficiently as Donna, though. Nobody could ever replace Donna – he vowed to fire anyone who tried.

Midterm elections were coming up. He spent the next ten minutes perusing the papers before he was interrupted by CJ and Toby.

"We need to talk to you," Toby said.

He set the file aside. "Yeah?"

"Mark Jones called me this morning," the tall redhead began. "There have been some rumors going around – about you and Donna."

Josh was no longer sitting down. "What?!"

"Did you and Donna ever have inappropriate contact?" Toby inquired.

_Good ol' reliable Toby_, Josh thought bitterly. _Thanks for being so damn blunt._

"What is that supposed to mean?" the Deputy COS asked through gritted teeth. "Are you asking me if I ever screwed my assistant?"

"Or kissed her, hugged her – did you do ever do anything along those lines?" CJ clarified.

"No," Josh denied. "Why would you ask me something so ridiculous?"

"Because I might be getting some questions in this morning's briefing," she told him. "I don't want you doing anything stupid."

"Me? Do something stupid?" he scoffed. "Oh, you mean like barge in and pummel anyone idiotic enough to ---"

"Stay away from the pressroom!"

"You and Donna have this weird thing going," Toby explained. "You were number one on each other's speed dial."

Josh rubbed his forehead and didn't bother mentioning he never removed Donna's number from the number one spot. It was unlikely she'd be using the phone anytime soon, but he still couldn't bring himself to bump her out.

"And you flew out of the country in the middle of a crisis," Toby continued. "That's not normal."

"What was I supposed to do?" Josh shouted at them. "My assistant was injured – and there was nobody there. Should I have left her the hell alone?"

"Josh, calm down," CJ said – unnecessarily, since he was going to do nothing of the sort.

"What do you think, CJ?" he asked. "What's your take on this?"

"You leave work early to help Donna with her therapy. And you're more involved than most bosses would be." Josh glared at her. "As your friend, I wouldn't expect anything less ---"

"And as Press Secretary?"

The redhead sighed. "It raises a lot of red flags." She decided to placate the man as best she could. "I'll try to shut down questions about you and Donna, but I can't guarantee anything."

"You got yourself in this mess," Toby contributed.

Josh pumped his fist into his palm. "You damn well better shut down those questions!"

Carol poked her head into Josh's office. "Five minutes," she reminded her boss.

CJ nodded and turned to follow her assistant to the pressroom. Before she left, she turned back. "Toby, keep him away from the pressroom," she instructed the Communications Director.

Even with the warning, CJ started formulating defenses for her hot-tempered boss. All three people in the room knew that when it came to Donna, not even wild boars could keep Josh from attacking anyone who dared sully her name.


	6. Chapter 5

Article appears in the paper circulating rumors about Josh and Donna's alleged affair

**Author's Notes**

_The West Wing _is owned by Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, etc. Not me.

**We Interrupt This Mets Game**

**Chapter V**

West Wing

Press Room

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

7:30 am

"CJ!"

"CJ, over here!"

The reporters clamored to get the Press Secretary's attention. "Henry," she called.

"There's a rumor going around that Josh Lyman was sleeping with his assistant before the Codel bombing. Can you clarify this?"

"Normally, I'd say that we don't comment on the personal lives of staff. But let me just say this …" CJ leaned into the microphone and glared at the offending journalist. "Joshua Lyman and Donnatella Moss have always been good friends and each other's biggest supporter. They have never had any inappropriate or unethical contact. Believe me, if they had, I would have had them strangled by now." Here a nervous laugh from the press.

"Do you think Lyman spending so much time out of the White House is affecting the President?" someone else called out.

"Josh Lyman has always spent time outside the White House. You don't get things done around here by staying locked up in your office – unless you're a speech writer." She made sure she had the eye of every person in the room before proceeding. "Josh Lyman is helping Donna Moss and her family in any way he can. I only hope that if any one of us in this room is ever in Donna's situation, someone would be that dedicated and care that deeply for us."

"One more step, Donna," the man coaxed.

"Wummaw step, D'na," Donna parroted.

She gripped the bars and lifted her bad leg off the ground. She moved forward and shrieked when the leg touched the floor again.

"You're doing great."

Donna glared at him. "It … ou…ches!"

"Soon it won't hurt anymore," he promised.

"Hurt … an'more," she echoed.

The man had been making her take steps forever and ever. Her leg hurted when she put it down. He was a mean man to make her do that. She wondered if he had a mommy. She could tell on him.

"That was very good," the man said. He helped Donna into her wheelchair.

"Frog face!" she blurted. She never did funny things when she was big. People were afraid to tell her about Before. She forgot anyways. She wasn't too good at remembering. But she always remembered Josh. Josh was her friend.

Tristen Baldridge Rehabilitation Center

Room 683 – Donnatella Moss

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

5:35 pm

Josh regretted changing the television channel the second Donna started shrieking. He quickly changed the channel back to her cartoons, but it was too late.

"Use your words," Mrs. Moss ordered.

Donna banged her fists against her chair and continued screaming.

Mrs. Moss grabbed her daughter and tried to hold down her arms. It did nothing to stop the tantrum. By now, Donna was kicking anyone who came close and smacking herself in the head.

"Donnatella Moss, you stop that foolishness this instant!" she said sternly.

"It's okay," Josh said softly. "I put it back. See?" He pointed to the TV. "Cartoons. No more C-Span."

Donna's lip trembled and tears rolled down her cheeks. "No!" she shrieked, and violently shoved her mother away.

Josh motioned to Donna's mother to step aside. She obeyed begrudgingly. He knelt next to the hysterical woman and stroked her cheeks. "Shhh," he cooed. "You're okay. You're okay."

After a few more choked sobs, she stopped screaming and gasped for air.

"If you want something, you have to ask," he reminded her. It was no use – her attention was on the TV.

As Josh was leaving at the end of the visit, Mrs. Moss stopped him. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" she asked.

"I was planning on grabbing some dinner, if you'd like to join me."

"You're not needed back at the office?" Mrs. Moss asked.

Josh waved a hand in dismissal. "Nah. It's close to Christmas. If they need anything, they know how to reach me."

"…I know what's expected of me," Mrs. Moss explained while they waited for their burgers. "A good mother would take care of her only daughter." She rubbed her cheek. "I'm in my sixties; I got bad arthritis. Even if I did take her home with me, what's gonna happen when I can't care for her anymore?"

"The doctors say she's making a lot of improvements," Josh said. It drove him crazy, not being able to see her facial expressions as well in the restaurant's dim lighting.

"I been hearing the doctors, same as you. She's no more than a child and you know it. But I already raised my children. I'm done raising kids."

"She can't stay in rehab forever," he reminded her. "It's supposed to be temporary."

They purposely avoided saying the name in public, in case any reporters were within earshot. Not that anyone would dare subject themselves to Joshua Lyman's wrath by getting close to Donna. Unfortunately, one never knows what idiots are out there.

"There's a nursing home in Madison. If I put her on the waiting list now, maybe by the time she's ready to leave here there'll be room for her." She continued, the flood of words pouring from her lips. "What do I do if she has a seizure? She needs care round-the-clock, and I just can't do it."

The food arrived, saving Josh from saying something rude. _No way in hell Donna's gonna be locked in some stupid nursing home. _He took a bite of his burger – not burnt as much as he'd like, but he'd manage. He had ordered extra fries that would remain untouched on his plate. _Old habits die hard. _

"You must think I'm a terrible mother, wanting to abandon my daughter like this. Lord knows I don't want to place her in some home – but I can't care for her neither."


End file.
